


B is for Bermuda Triangle

by Rose_of_Pollux



Series: Around the World in 26 Days [2]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen, Supernatural Elements, if you want to see it that way - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-11 09:13:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11145399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: In which an investigation in a creepy lighthouse has more questions than answers.





	B is for Bermuda Triangle

**Author's Note:**

> The lighthouse featured in this vignette, the Great Isaac Lighthouse, and the disappearances mentioned in it are all 100% real, and the wailing Grey Lady is an actual legend. The end twist was inspired by ksturf after I complained that my research about the lighthouse resulted in absolutely zero pictures (and just one painting) of the lighthouse at night, which I had wanted to see since that’s when this story takes place.

Despite it being August, in the height of summer, Napoleon couldn’t shake off the chill as he and Illya investigated the lighthouse. They had arrived at the lighthouse, located on a small island in the Bahamas, to investigate the disappearance of its keepers. A hurricane had passed through the area a couple days ago, and it was suspected that either the keepers had disappeared during that storm, or something had happened to make them disappear just prior to it. The possibility of THRUSH involvement had sent Napoleon and Illya to investigate and take pictures of the lighthouse. Their investigation had turned up nothing to suggest any THRUSH involvement, however, and Illya was willing to dismiss the notion.

“If you ask me, I fail to see what THRUSH would want with this place,” he said. “There is nothing of value here inherently, and anything they could store here would get waterlogged.” He indicated the floor of the lighthouse, which was still drenched in a layer of water.

“Yeah, I’m inclined to agree with you,” Napoleon said. “It’s looking as though the keepers were the victims of Mother Nature… Unless…”

“Unless…?” Illya prompted.

“Well, we _are_ in the Bermuda Triangle… Oh, come on, don’t look at me like that! You do accept that things happen in this world that defy explanation, right?”

“Of course. But there is no evidence that this particular disappearance wasn’t the work of the hurricane.”

“Okay, good point,” Napoleon admitted. “Still, there’s something about this place that just… I don’t know; it gives me a bad feeling…”

“More than likely your preconceived notions about the Bermuda Triangle are acting as a powerful suggestion on your mind.”

“…So you’re a psychologist now?”

“Well, I _have_ been doing some extra reading…”

He trailed off as a piercing wailing sound seemed to come from the top of the lighthouse; the duo took defensive poses, standing back to back, as they stared up.

“I suppose _that_ was one of my ‘preconceived notions,’ hmm?” Napoleon asked.

“There was nothing up there when we looked five minutes ago,” Illya insisted.

“Yes. …So, what is that?”

“The wind. …Now you are the one looking at me like that, Napoleon…”

“When is it ever the wind!?”

The piercing sound was heard again, again from the top of the structure.

“Well, _Tovarisch_ , would you like to go up there and investigate the wind?”

Illya gripped Napoleon’s arm.

“It seems quite pointless, seeing as though we were there not five minutes ago. We should head back to the mainland and tell Mr. Waverly what we found.”

Napoleon would have smirked had he not been as eager to get out of there, too. Within minutes, Napoleon was steering the boat away, casting a glance back and saw Illya taking a picture of the exterior of the lighthouse bathed in the moonlight. Napoleon glanced up at the top of the lighthouse and then froze.

“What is _that_!?”

Illya looked up, noting the hazy, gray shape that Napoleon had been pointing at. It did look vaguely human-shaped, but…

“That is… a low-lying cloud,” Illya said. There wasn’t enough conviction in his voice, though, and Napoleon decided to forget the matter.

It soon returned to their consciousness, however, a day later, when the two were attempting to develop Illya’s roll of film. All of the photos on the roll had turned out fine, except for the one Illya had tried to take of the exterior of the lighthouse—that would have had that hazy shape that they had seen.

“…Perhaps that part of the film went bad…?” Illya offered.

“We can always go back with a new roll of film and find out…” Napoleon mused.

The two merely glanced at each other.

“…Nah,” they said, in unison.

Some mysteries were probably best unsolved.


End file.
